


A Practical Man

by Conjure_Lass



Series: You and Me are Going Far [3]
Category: Kingdom Hearts (Video Games)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Boys In Love, Dom/sub Undertones, Feels, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, No Beta, POV Riku (Kingdom Hearts), Praise Kink, Riku Loves Sora (Kingdom Hearts), Stripping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-18 03:27:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29851866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Conjure_Lass/pseuds/Conjure_Lass
Summary: They’d been lying in bed, Riku memorizing the freckles on the back of Sora’s neck with his lips, when the other man had first mentioned it. At first, Riku had been confused; Sora had seen him naked. But after a few minutes of shy explanation (and adorable blushing) it became clear that Sora was interested in much more than just Riku taking off his clothes la-de-da. He wanted it slow, he wanted to watch, and more importantly, he wanted Riku to perform.When Riku agrees to put on a little strip show for Sora, he quickly realizes he might be in over his head. Good thing Sora is there to help out.
Relationships: Riku/Sora (Kingdom Hearts)
Series: You and Me are Going Far [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2146092
Comments: 1
Kudos: 19





	A Practical Man

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, everyone! Me again!
> 
> So I had this story going through my head the entire time I was writing the last one. I didn't really mean for it to get as long as it did, but whatcha gonna do? 
> 
> You don't _have_ to read the previous stories, but they're all fluffy and sweet like this one and you'd probably enjoy them. 
> 
> Thanks!

Riku considers himself a practical man. 

Despite the fact that his life had been a series of crazy adventures (and misadventures) for the past few years, Riku had always liked a plan that went off without a hitch. He likes being prepared and he likes the feeling of knowing where he’s going, what he’s doing, and how he’s going to get there. Even with his recent strides, he’d never been all that good at following his heart. No matter how hard he might try, in some ways he knew he was never going to completely shake off the need to control every situation. 

So, being the practical person that he is, it had never once crossed Riku’s mind that Sora would return his affections. Why would he? Logically, it didn’t make sense. Riku had, singlehandedly, been the catalyst for most, if not all, of Sora’s misfortunes. He had been the one to open the door to darkness and get the whole, messy ball rolling that would eventually culminate in Sora’s death. The fact that Riku had tried really hard to make up for it since then never seemed to be enough in his mind to warrant a full pardon, and certainly not from Sora. 

Yet…Sora _had_ forgiven him. Completely and without reservation. Not only had Sora forgiven him, but he’d fallen _in love_ with him. He’d _pined_ for him, apparently for years, even while Riku was being an absolute shit. All that time Riku had simply been grateful for his unwavering friendship, never once considering asking for more, sure he’d be rejected were he to try. 

Who would want a standoffish, temperamental, morally conflicted person like himself? Well…Sora, apparently. Sora, in spite of all Riku’s flaws, wanted him very, very much. It was beyond Riku’s wildest dreams, but now that he had him, he couldn’t muster up the will or inclination to let him go. Riku had always tried to be the best at everything he did, and he’d made himself a vow that he was going to be the best boyfriend in the entire universe. He was going to prove to Sora, as often as humanly possible, that his decision was the right one. That they made sense together in a universe where very little did anymore.

Sora deserved nothing less. 

Which brings us to the present, where Riku stands, utterly perplexed, at a clothing shop in Radiant Garden. He’s been there for going on two hours, poring over the selection and probably annoying the poor staff. They’ve been trying on outfit after outfit, each one more depressing than the last, until Riku is about to throw the entire pile right out the window. No matter how beautiful they say he looks, no matter how many compliments they throw his way, none of these clothes seem to speak to him. 

What exactly does one wear to do a “sexy strip” for one’s amorous boyfriend?

They’d been lying in bed, Riku memorizing the freckles on the back of Sora’s neck with his lips, when the other man had first mentioned it. At first, Riku had been confused; Sora had seen him naked. But after a few minutes of shy explanation (and adorable blushing) it became clear that Sora was interested in much more than just Riku taking off his clothes la-de-da. He wanted it slow, he wanted to watch, and more importantly, he wanted Riku to _perform_. 

Okay, maybe he hadn’t actually said “perform” in so many words, but after looking it up in a library book, that’s what Riku figured Sora must be talking about. The book had been very clear that when one strips for one’s lover, they should do so with music and dancing for optimal effect. It also had a whole chapter about picking out just the right outfit for the occasion, which was where Riku figured he would start. 

It did not, however, mention how one works themselves up mentally to do so. 

“I’m really sorry, Aerith,” Riku says for the fifteenth time, throwing the pair of booty-shorts she’d suggested over the changing room door. “I don’t think any of these are going to work.”

“I think you’ve tried on the whole store!” she replies with a soft laugh. He can see her boots under the door, the way she goes up on her tiptoes to grab the discarded clothes. “Don’t worry, we’ll find something.”

When he’d arrived in Radiant Garden, his intention had been to do this alone. Just get in and get out fast without any embarrassing questions. Unfortunately, Aerith had been in the first shop he’d gone to trying on a necklace, and before he knew what he was doing, he’d told her exactly why he was there. Aerith, with her bright green eyes and soft demeanor, had a weird way of getting the truth out of Riku (and everyone else) without really trying. He’d thought, more than once, that she actually used magic to do so, though perhaps unknowingly.

Regardless, after a bit of eyebrow wiggling she’d insisted on helping him with his purchase, determined to find him the perfect outfit. Honestly, he couldn’t say her help was completely unwelcome, especially after he’d come out of the first shop with nothing to show for it but frustration. Nothing fit quite right. It was either too tight or too showy or too many buckles and leather belts. He just wanted something simple, sexy, easy to get off and something that Sora would think he looked pretty in. Was that so hard?!

“You know,” she tosses a pair of dark grey velvet pants and a navy blue v-neck shirt over the door, “this reminds me of Cloud. Just a little.”

“How?!” He pulls on the super soft pants and finds them…acceptable. They hug his thighs and butt, but not so much in the calves that he feels like a sausage stuffed into a too-tight casing. Comfortable. The shirt is similar; it’s tight around his pecs and biceps, but not so constricting that he feels like he’s about to burst out of it like a corset. Not too bad. Not exactly super sexy, but Sora probably isn’t looking for something like that anyway, right?

Aerith giggles as though she’s about to share something she shouldn’t, but is going to anyway. “Ooohhhh, he’d be furious if you knew, buuuutt…there was this time…at the Honey Bee…”

She proceeds to tell Riku the entire story while he’s being rung out at the counter and continues as they make their way down the street to a newly opened juice bar on the corner. Eventually Riku is sitting, utterly enraptured in the tale, as they slurp at their drinks. Aerith is a good storyteller, and there are a few points where he very nearly snorts strawberry juice through his nose. Cloud had always reminded Riku a little of himself, so to hear this wild saga of him dancing and wearing a dress at an exotic club?! Well…it certainly makes Riku feel a little better about his own nervousness. 

He wonders how Cloud pulled it off…

“You could ask him about it.” Aerith, blinks innocently, chewing on her straw. “You know…for pointers…”

“You think he’d get mad?”

“Oh, for sure.” She bites her lip and leans in, waves her hand towards Riku in a secretive gesture. “But I also guarantee he’ll tell you alllll about it. He had such a good time, don’t let him fool you. It was great.”

*****

“Did Aerith put you up to this?”

This was a bad idea, Riku thinks, as Cloud’s glowing eyes narrow at him. Riku might have helped save the worlds, but that didn’t make Cloud any less…intimidating. He had a way of staring you down that made Riku want to squirm, made him feel about twelve years old. Still, there was no getting out of the situation with any kind of grace now, and Aerith had assured him that once the initial annoyance had passed that Cloud would calm down.

“No!” Riku blurts. “Well…I mean, yes. Kind of? She told me about you at…that club?”

“The HoneyBee.”

“Yes! That! And she mentioned that maybe you wouldn’t mind…” Riku trails off, his hands falling uselessly to his sides. Cloud doesn’t speak, merely raises one pale eyebrow and waits with surprising patience for Riku to continue. This was a really bad idea; he is never taking Aerith’s advice again. 

“Mind what?” Cloud says finally, slamming Twin Stinger down into the ground where he’d been training. He plops down in front of it, crossing his legs beneath him. It almost seems like an invitation, so Riku takes it as one, looking around himself for a spot that isn’t full of jagged rocks or smoking magic. By all accounts Cloud had been at it for hours, though you’d never know it by just looking at him. Riku had been told once that it was due to the Mako (whatever that was) he’d been exposed to, that it gave him more stamina than an ordinary person. 

Riku takes a deep breath. “That you…wouldn’t mind telling me how you did it?”

“What do you mean? I just…danced. Other people did the make-up. The dress wasn’t mine.”

“No, no,” Riku scrubs his hand through the hair at the back of his neck. He hadn’t expected this to be like pulling teeth. Truth be told, he’s never really had a one-on-one conversation with Cloud before, though Sora had mentioned them being good friends in the past. Something about how they’d met at the Coliseum shortly after Sora had first gotten the Keyblade. “I mean…were you nervous? Or…embarrassed?”

Understanding washes over Cloud’s face as he nods, crossing his arms over his chest. “I see. Do you want to join a club? You’re pretty. They’d like you.”

Slapping his hands over his face, Riku feels himself blush all the way to the tips of his ears. “Oh my god, no! Nothing like that! Sora just…he asked me to strip for him and I don’t know what to do!!”

The conversation hits a brick wall and explodes into a million shards. Cloud, who before this had started to seem as though he were warming up to Riku, is now cold as ice. His eyes narrow again, some emotion Riku can’t place emanating off him in waves. Almost a protectiveness, a skepticism. “You are Sora are…together?” Cloud questions softly, cocking his head to the side. “Sora is dating you?”

“Yes,” Riku answers, nodding, his voice nearly a squeak. Some Keyblade Master he is. “We’ve been dating for a few months.”

Long, uncomfortable moments pass as Riku watches Cloud process the information. He recognizes this look almost immediately, the contemplative gaze, as it's one Riku is known to have himself. The slow, inward processing of emotions and thoughts. Not wanting to speak until he has the right thing to say. Does it always work? No. Riku, for all his cautiousness, doesn’t always say the right thing. His temper and impulsiveness sometimes gets in the way, trips up his best intentions, and he wonders idly if Cloud is the same. 

“And Sora…wants you to put on a little strip show for him?”

It’s everything Riku can do to nod, but he refuses to look away, wants to be brave. He can _feel_ the other man’s amusement now, can see it in the quirk of his mouth, the set of his jaw. This is so humiliating.

“Yeah.”

The laughter, when it comes, is one of the oddest things Riku has ever heard. It’s like a weird snort that wheezes at the end before trailing off. It’s the laugh of a man who is out of practice, rusty, like he hasn’t had much to laugh about. It’s actually pretty endearing, Riku thinks, smiling. He can see why Aerith likes him, he can see why Sora likes him. 

Sora had told him the story of Cloud fighting his own darkness, of the man with the long silver hair that embodied it. He'd mentioned repeatedly that Cloud and Riku would get along, that they had a lot in common. Riku, now having met him, is inclined to agree. Though he's not much for opening up to people yet, much preferring to keep his affections restricted to a select few. 

“He saved my life when he was just a kid, you know?” Cloud says, leaning back against his massive sword, casting his otherworldly eyes skyward. “And now he’s asking his boyfriend for a dirty show. Time flies…”

“Please don’t tell him I told you!” Riku begs, hair falling in his face where he bends slightly forward. He can only imagine the teasing Sora would give him if he ever found out about this. “I will never live it down.”

“Promise,” Cloud reaches over a little tentatively, puts a strong hand on his shoulder and squeezes. “Seriously though…you embarrassed about it?”

Riku nods. “How did you do all that without dying?”

“Oh, I didn’t,” Cloud laughs again, the sound a little more rounded on the edges, fuller. “It was absolutely humiliating. But you know what else?”

“What?”

“I kind of…liked it?” Cloud brings his crossed arms in tight to his chest, protective, as though he's preparing himself in case Riku is going to make fun of him. "It made me feel good."

This mirrors what Aerith had said, and Riku is once again left wondering how and why she knows the things she does. Does she know things about Riku that she simply isn't saying? Probably pointless to ask her; she probably wouldn't tell him. He's always found her enigmatic, as though she's looking both at him and the whole world at the same time. As though her mental map of the universe is much larger than his own. 

"But," Riku waves his hand, trying to get to his point across without knowing exactly what the point is. "How did you do it if you were uncomfortable?"

Cloud shrugs, standing in one smooth motion, clearly bringing the conversation to a close. He draws Twin Stinger from the ground and shakes a few clumps of dirt from the tip, his fist tight around the hilt. "I just did. You know how it is. You just do it."

Riku rises up with him, brushing dirt from his shins. Despite the "advice" being somewhat less than complex, he does in fact know what Cloud is getting at. It reminds him of Mickey, a bit. Sometimes you just push past things and do it, sometimes you're so focused on someone else, or on what you want to accomplish, that there's no room for your squeamishness. You just, as Cloud says, do it. 

"Hey," Cloud hefts his massive sword over his shoulder, the corner of his lips quirking upward in what Riku can only assume is a smile. "I'll send you some music. Maybe it'll help. I mean...Sora is a dork, he's going to love it even if you fall flat on your face, kid."

"I'm nineteen years old," Riku grumbles. "You're not _that_ much older than me."

"Experience years. C'mon. Let me see that new Keyblade of yours before you go."

*****

The music Cloud sends him is horrific. 

It's not that it's particularly bad, only that it's clearly meant to be...sexy music? It's all oozing saxophones and thrumming beats, which Riku can only assume are meant to be mimicked by his own body in some way. When Riku pictured Cloud's taste in music, it had certainly not been this. Would Sora like this? These kind of songs aren't exactly his taste either.

He pushes away from the computer with a frustrated huff, leaning back to press the heels of his hands into his eyes. How is he going to do this?! He's read the chapter on dancing for your lover about six times and he's no closer to understanding what to do than he was when he started. Should he build a stage? Stripping happens on a stage, right? Riku's good at building things, he could manage that. But what does he do with it once it's built?!

The dishes from preparing dinner still need to be done, so he stomps over to the sink, trying to let the monotony of the chore soothe his mind. Just wash the dishes and don't think about anything else. Wash, rinse, dry. Don't think about Sora's disappointed face when Riku makes a complete fool of himself. Don't think about how awkward it will be to try and dance to this ridiculous music Cloud sent him. Would Sora think this was funny? Would he laugh at him?

Splashing the water with his fist, Riku shakes his head as though it will dislodge those thoughts. Sora would never do that, Sora would never laugh at him. Still, there's a part of Riku that will forever be insecure and he can't help but imagine Sora teasing him and making fun of him. 

No!

"Stop it," he says out loud, putting the last of the dishes on the drying rack, untying the apron from his waist. "You're just working yourself up. Stop it."

Riku takes a deep breath, smelling the chicken and potatoes he's cooking for dinner, the clean laundry in a basket near the door, and tries to focus on that. Anything to get himself out of his own head for just a second, just long enough to think logically. Sora will be home from work soon and they'll have dinner and he'll tell Riku about his day. They'll laugh and smile and kiss and it will be, quite literally, everything that Riku has ever wanted. He is so lucky. He is so damn grateful for all this. There are still times he holds Sora in his arms and can't believe it's real. 

He stops pacing in front of the floor mirror, not knowing when he started, and stares at himself for a long time. 

Riku knows he's beautiful. He's had enough people in his life say so for him to accept it as an objective fact. But that doesn't necessarily mean he feels that way. When Riku looks at himself he sees...mistakes. Sure, he's not drowning in guilt and shame the way he used to, has worked himself past those feelings. Nevertheless, there are things he can't seem to overcome, nagging doubts and fears that come and go, that chip at his confidence. 

This whole stripping thing has made him feel...inadequate. Riku doesn't like feeling as though he can't do something, like he's not good enough. Because if he's not good enough, then how can he be worthy of Sora?

Making his way to the window overlooking the street, Riku sits on the sill and watches the bistro. He doesn't always do this, wait for Sora to emerge from work, but sometimes his lovesick ass just can't help itself. He wants to see him after ten hours spent apart, wants visual proof that Sora is still alive and with him. He doesn't want to wait for the front door to open, he wants to see him now.

Right on cue, Sora appears, coming out of the restaurant and into the small crowd gathered in the square, his smile a little tired around the edges but still bright. Riku, closet sap that he is, feels his heart jump, resting his forehead on the windowpane to watch. Watches Sora chat for a second with an older gentleman, a regular patron from what Riku understands. Watches him laugh and gesticulate and point, the absolute most brilliant star in the sky, the focal point of Riku's whole universe.

It's no wonder that everyone loves him.

After a few more minutes, Sora gestures to their apartment, apparently wrapping up the short conversation. He looks up at the window then, as though he can somehow feel Riku’s gaze on him, his wide smile growing even sunnier when he sees him. Bouncing on the soles of his feet, Sora waves and blows Riku a kiss, slinging his workbag over his shoulder before jogging across the street. Riku, feeling too silly to blow kisses, shyly waves back and moves to stand, mood already lifted by the knowledge that Sora will be home. 

And promptly feels his heart sink into his stomach. 

Something. Is. Burning.

The scent is faint, but noticeable enough that Riku wonders how the hell he could have missed it. Cursing, he runs over to the kitchen, quickly pulling the door of the oven open to haul out the chicken and frantically wave his oven mitt over the trails of rising smoke. Dammit! He’d been so focused on his own nonsense that he’d spoiled their dinner! What the hell is wrong with him today?!

Cursing again, he shakes his head and tries to fight the feeling of anxiety rising up in his chest, the sensation so sudden it’s threatening to spill out of his eyes. Despite the sensible part of his brain assuring him that this isn’t a big deal, that things happen, all the rest is screaming about what a damn failure he is. How stupid he is. How he can’t manage the simplest things. How he’s going to look so stupid stripping for Sora. 

_Sora isn’t going to want you anymore. Sora is going to find someone better. Sora deserves the perfect boyfriend. You have to be perfect!!_

“Honey, I’m hooooome!” he hears from the door, but the happy exclamation barely manages to make a dent in his rapidly swirling thoughts. Rubbing his upper arms as though cold, Riku finds himself too overcome to answer. 

“…Riku?”

He feels Sora before he actually sees him, hears him hesitantly coming into their tiny kitchen as though approaching a spooked animal. Riku can't help but think the analogy rather apt as he shrinks in on himself, squeezing his eyes shut to keep the tears at bay. Sora doesn’t touch him once he’s close enough, but Riku can smell him, a mix of sweat and cooked food and the remnants of the cologne he’d put on when he left. Usually this would be the point in the evening where Riku would laughingly insist Sora go take a shower, telling him he stinks and that he wasn’t getting one hug until he cleaned up. 

Not tonight though.

“What happened?” Sora asks gently, the tone of his voice prompting Riku to open his eyes and look at him. It always amazes Riku how beautiful Sora is. No matter how long a day he has in the bistro, no matter the stains on his shirt or the way his hair clings to his sweaty forehead, he always looks good to Riku. “I just saw you in the window and you seemed fine…”

Pulling himself together enough to speak, Riku winces at the watery way his voice comes out. “I didn’t realize I’d…burned dinner. I’m sorry…”

“Huh?” Sora blinks, looking down into the pan where the ruined chicken rests. He grabs a fork from the counter and stabs one of the potatoes, shoving it into his mouth. “It tastes good to me!” he mumbles around his mouthful, grabbing another after he swallows the first bite. “They’re barely overdone at all!”

“I didn’t mean to,” Riku whispers pathetically, casting his eyes down to the floor. “I was distracted and lost track of time…”

Sora, who despite appearances is far from oblivious, must realize there is more to the situation than meets the eye. “Hey, it’s okay,” he replies gently, cupping Riku’s face in one palm so he can scrutinize him with that cobalt gaze. “Are you okay? Is this really about dinner?”

One of the hardest things the two of them were learning in their relationship was that it was all right to tell each other when they weren’t having a good day. That it was okay for Sora to tell Riku when something made him feel stupid and likewise it was okay for Riku to tell Sora when he needed a little extra reassurance. That by doing so they weren’t being an imposition or somehow ruining the other person’s day. Riku, for his part, wasn’t comfortable with it yet. He’d spent most of his life keeping his feelings bottled up, and it was going to take more than a few months to break him of the habit. 

Still…he tried. For Sora. 

“I feel a little off,” Riku nods, trying to find a way to say what he’s feeling without giving away his plans. “I’m just…a little insecure today.”

“About what? Did I do something?” 

“No, no!” Riku is quick to derail that train of thought, not wanting Sora to take responsibility for Riku’s problems the way he was always inclined to. “Honestly, it’s just me.” Riku laughs, shaking his head as though the anxiety would magically fall out his ears. “I just got myself worked up over something and this made it worse. I’ll be fine. I’m fine.”

Tugging insistently on the front of Riku’s shirt, Sora cocks his head, the stubborn set of his jaw implying Riku wasn't going get out of this without some kind of explanation. “What something? Is it the something you went to Radiant Garden for and wouldn’t tell me why? Can I help? Riku, you promised.”

“I know. I know.” Riku feels heat rise up in his face, feels guilt nibble at him. Maybe he should just tell Sora what’s going on. “Would you be mad if I told you it was a surprise?” 

“A surprise?” Sora lights up, his whole body instantly vibrating with excitement. “What kind of surprise? For me?”

“For both of us, if I do it right,” Riku grins, glad that he’s gotten Sora off track, though he has a feeling Sora is allowing it to be so. Leaning in, he kisses the tip of Sora’s nose, something in his chest unclenching at the silly way his face crinkles up in response. “It’s nothing bad. I just need to stop overthinking it.”

“You do tend to brood,” Sora agrees with a sad nod, giving Riku a chaste kiss. “It’s your super-secret power right next to your amazing butt.”

Riku, feeling about twenty pounds lighter, rolls his eyes and shoves Sora away by the shoulder. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Go take a shower. You smell like fried fish.”

“Do I?” Sora asks, lifting up his arm to sniff himself theatrically. “Ewww. I do! I’ll be right back. Don’t you dare throw out that chicken! We’ll shred it and turn it into quesadillas!”

Twenty minutes later Sora is fresh from the shower and in the kitchen, crushing the roasted potatoes into a mash that he mixes with more butter than is strictly necessary. Riku had argued that it wasn’t fair for Sora to come home from cooking all day only to cook some more, but once Sora had waved a cheesy, chicken stuffed tortilla at Riku’s face he’d pretty much forgotten what he was arguing about. 

“You sure you’re okay?” Sora asks quietly as they eat, curled up together on the loveseat facing the television. There’s a show on about bats, and Riku has really had a soft spot for them since the whole Mark of Mastery exam. He misses Violet and reminds himself to visit her more often; maybe Sora and he can go together, make a date of it. “You’d tell me if you weren’t, right?”

Riku…isn’t sure he can honestly say that. Nevertheless, in the effort of open communication, he decides the truth is best in this case. “I’m trying,” he kisses Sora’s temple, leaning his forehead against the soft spikes of hair. “I’m still not very good at this. But I promise I’m trying.”

“You’ll get better at it. We’re a work in progress,” Sora smiles, licking a bit of salsa off his finger. “Can’t wait to see what this big surprise is though!”

No pressure, Riku. No pressure…

*****

It’s a week later and Riku has locked himself in the bathroom. 

After much deliberation and sleep deprivation, he’d finally broken down and told Sora about the surprise before Sora was scheduled for work. Predictably, Sora had been over the moon, though quick to scold Riku for telling him so early when he’d have to spend the entire day thinking about it. He’d jokingly said he’d be lucky to not burn down the bistro. Of course, this had been one-hundred percent intentional on Riku’s part; he desperately needed those ten hours to prepare himself mentally. 

In retrospect, it hadn’t done much good. 

“Riku?” Sora calls through the door, his voice a sweet mix of concern and barely-contained delight. “Everything all right in there? Does the outfit have lots of belts or something? Wait, are you shaving everything off?! Don’t do that! I like your hair!”

Caught off guard, Riku gives himself one last critical glance in the mirror before poking his head out the door. Sora is waiting for him cross-legged on the bed, both hands clasped in his lap as he bounces with anticipation. “No, I’m not shaving my whole body! Why would I do that?!” Riku laughs, shaking his head. “Now, don’t get your hopes up too high. The outfit isn’t anything flashy.”

Taking a deep breath, Riku shyly opens the door and steps out into the candlelit apartment, blinking a few times to let his eyes adjust to the lower lighting. Sora had insisted upon setting the proper mood when he found out what Riku was upto, grabbing up the candles from Valentine’s Day and littering them across every available surface except the floor…they’d learned their lesson from the last time that scraping candle wax off hardwood was a truly awful experience. 

“Ohhhh,” Sora covers his mouth with his hands, his blue eyes wide and appreciative over the tips of his fingers. “Riku, you don’t need belts and buckles…those velvet _pants_. Oh _wow_ …”

“Y-You like them?” Riku hears the nervousness in his own voice, looks down at himself, silently wondering what Sora could possibly be so excited over. “They’re nothing fancy…”

Sora flops back into the nest of pillows, stretching his arms out wide to rest atop them while crossing his legs at the ankles in front of himself. He’s the picture of masculine calm, sexy in an effortless way that Riku is certain he’s unaware of. It’s such a long way from the little boy he was back when their adventures first began, such an odd juxtaposition. Riku would have never imagined himself in this position back then, to be allowed to see Sora this way, to be the object of Sora’s desires.

“The clothes aren’t what I’m interested in anyway,” Sora says, his voice low and…seductive? Whatever it is, it sets Riku’s pulse fluttering around in his belly like beating wings, makes him feel feverish along the back of his neck. 

What was that he was saying about Sora not being aware…?

“You ready?” Sora waves his Gummiphone around cheerfully, switching gears so suddenly that Riku feels like he might have just gotten whiplash. Riku had sent Sora the song he’d chosen to dance to while he was away at work, playing it off as a tease when in reality it was a last ditch effort to keep himself from backing out. The song was one of the…less awful choices Cloud had sent him. Something without lyrics, nothing too obvious; there had been a song about cherry pie that Riku had instantly nixed. Honestly, he’d tried to come up with something (anything, honestly) else, but everything he’d thought of seemed too cheesy, too sappy, too overtly sexual, too…everything. 

“As I’m going to ever be, I guess.” 

The music begins, a soft electronic beat gradually building into a throbbing baseline that Riku attempts to move his body in time with. Sadly, from the moment he begins swinging his hips, he knows his attempt is in vain. In the past people have often remarked on how graceful Riku is in battle, how he was made to swing his Keyblade, how effortless he makes it look. This, in contrast, is about as far from effortless and even _farther_ from graceful as one can possibly get. Instantly and with great clarity, he knows this was a horrible mistake, feels the stiffness and awkwardness in his flailing limbs and can’t even bring himself to look at Sora. The book had said that eye contact was important and sexy, but he just can’t do it.

What is he doing?! 

Swirling anxiety churning in his stomach, it isn’t until the music stops that he even realizes he’s turned away, that he isn’t moving, that he’s nearly hyperventilating. Tingles are shooting up and down his arms, making the tips of his fingers numb where he presses his hands into fists at his side. Why couldn’t he just _do_ this? Why couldn’t he do this simple thing? Sora asks for so little…why couldn’t Riku just suck it up and do this one damn thing?!

“Riku?” Sora isn’t stirring, but his voice speaks volumes for his concern. This is, one-hundred percent, the worst-case scenario. This is everything that Riku had worried would happen, only now that it’s real and not his imagination, is so much more awful. All Riku wants to do is run back into the bathroom and throw up, but his body isn’t cooperating anymore, not even to flee. “Babe…you okay?”

There are a lot of ways that Riku can answer that question, some that might even be somewhat constructive. He can, for example, laugh and play it off, maybe try again. He can turn around and kiss Sora so hard that they’d both forget about this stupid strip show and tumble into bed together. He can even attempt to explain himself, be honest in the way he’s promised Sora he’d try to be. Sora will understand, even if he’s a little disappointed…right?

Orrrrr….

Or he could do what he’s currently doing, apparently. Which is tearing up pathetically and collapsing in on himself, palms coming up to cover his face. “I’m sorry,” he says softly, shaking his head, embarrassed by the growing quiver in his voice. 

Sora is at Riku’s side an instant later, but Riku doesn’t look, squeezes his eyes tightly shut behind his shaking hands. The anxiety has him frozen to the spot, too scared; it’s one thing to imagine Sora’s disappointed face, the way his bottom juts out when he’s sad, but to actually see it would break Riku into a million pieces. “I wanted to do this for you, but I’m no good at it! You were so excited about it and I ruined everything!”

A mumbled curse is all the warning he gets before Sora is taking Riku’s hands in his own, forcibly tugging them away from his face to squeeze them until some feeling begins to return. It’s a testament to their relationship how clearly Sora reads the situation, how quickly he is able to interpret Riku’s body language. People don’t give Sora’s intuition enough credit; he’s so much smarter than everyone thinks he is.

“Look at me.” Sora’s voice is gentle, but strong. It’s the tone he uses when he’s trying to get a point across, when he wants to be taken seriously. Usually Riku loves that tone of voice, likes the way it sends a secret thrill down his spine that settles at the small of his back. But right now? Right now his thoughts are eddying and he’s scared. 

With Riku not capable of immediate compliance, Sora’s voice gets just a hint lower. “Look at me, I say.”

Finding himself unable to disobey, Riku opens his eyes and looks down into Sora’s face. It’s worse than he thought; his eyes are shining with tears, eyebrows scrunched up tight with worry, mouth set in a tight line. God, the last thing Riku wanted to do tonight was make Sora cry. Tonight was supposed to be special and fun and sexy. That’s what the book said…

“I’m trying so hard to be a perfect boyfriend…” he whispers, finding his legs underneath him only long enough to take a step back, walls coming up, away, away, away. “The book said it was easy and fun,” he says finally, shoulders slumping in defeat.

“The book?” Sora repeats, stubbornly closing the distance between them, not allowing Riku out of range. In a way, Riku appreciates it. He appreciates that Sora knows when not to back down or give in to whatever was going on in Riku’s head. He appreciates Sora’s fingers clinging to the front of his shirt, grounding him to the spot, not letting him go. “What book?”

Riku points over at it sitting on the computer desk with two dozen different colored bookmarks sticking out in random spots. Blinking a few times, understanding slowly begins to bloom on Sora’s face, eventually lighting up his eyes. He cups Riku’s face in both his hands, wipes his thumbs under puffy eyes. “Oh, hon,” he breathes out, almost a sigh. “You didn’t have to go through all this trouble.”

“Huh?” Riku wipes at his nose, confused. “What do you mean? You said you wanted me to…”

“Riku, I just want to see you take your clothes off for me! I know you can’t dance!” Sora pulls back with a tiny laugh, shoves Riku’s shoulder slightly. The impact somehow seems to knock a chunk of the anxiety out of him, makes him feel a little better. A little lighter. He can breathe again. “Why would I ask you to dance for me?! We’re going to be lucky if we can dance at our own wedding someday!”

“B-but I thought--”

“And another thing!” Interrupting him, Sora crosses his arms over his chest, clearly trying to look as stern as he can possibly manage. “What’s all this about you ruining everything? Or being a perfect boyfriend? You’re the _best_ boyfriend!”

Blushing despite himself, Riku leans down to rest his forehead against Sora’s for a moment, the physical touch helping his thoughts melt back together, brings him back to center, back to himself. “I just...I just want to be good enough…”

“For who?” The corner of Sora’s mouth quirks up; he knows he has Riku pinned. 

Because that’s…really the $64,000 dollar question, isn’t it? Who, exactly, isn’t he good enough for? Sora (sweet, wonderful, lovely Sora) has always accepted Riku exactly the way he is, even back when who he was wasn’t all that great. Why is he worrying about Sora not wanting him when he’s always wanted him? Why is he projecting his own insecurities onto him, when he’s never given Riku any reason to do so?

“Me, I guess,” Riku admits finally, rubbing his palm angrily over his eyes. “Ugh…I keep thinking I’m getting better about this.”

“You are!” Sora wraps his arms around Riku’s middle, presses his cheek against Riku’s chest like a kitten. “But babe, you don’t have to be _perfect_. This is where I want to be. You don’t have to keep constantly trying to _earn_ me.” 

A beat.

“And certainly never with _dancing_. Never _ever_ with dancing, Riku.”

A few moments of stunned silence pass before the laughter fizzles from his belly to his mouth, but when it does, it positively _detonates_. As long as they’ve been alive, Sora has had the unique ability to make him laugh when nearly no one else could. To make him smile, even when he really didn’t want to. At Riku’s most sullen, storm clouds raining on his every parade, Sora had always made him feel better. 

“Theeeere it issss,” Sora coos happily, rocking Riku back and forth with arms latched firmly around his hips. “There’s the best sound in the world.”

Riku sniffs and rolls his eyes, feeling his shoulders unclench pleasantly. He’d built this up in his head so much that watching it fall to pieces is actually a little bit of a relief. At least it’s over. At least he can’t make more of a fool of himself at this point. “You’re such a sap.”

Sora doesn’t bother disagreeing, merely takes Riku’s hand in his own and starts leading them towards the bed. “C’mon, let’s go to bed. You can show me that book you’ve been getting so worked up over. Does it have pictures?”

For a brief moment, Riku almost considers it. It’s an easy out. Going to bed with Sora, perhaps make love before falling asleep warm and happy and peaceful. Still…something inside him is saying to give this another shot, to try another way, one that will make them both happy. Riku hates leaving things undone, especially something Sora wanted so badly. 

He tugs on his arm to get his attention. “Do you think I can maybe…try again?” Riku asks, shyly. “A different way?”

“Riku, you don’t have to--”

“I know!” Riku responds hurriedly, bringing Sora’s knuckles up for a quick kiss. “I want to. No dancing, I promise. I just thought maybe you could...guide me?”

It should come as a surprise to no one that Sora likes to be in charge. All throughout their childhood, Riku and he had vied over who was going to be the king, argued over who was going to be the leader, and debated over who was going to wear the captain’s hat. The fact that they had grown into something akin to co-leaders of their little group didn’t diminish the fact that Sora really liked being in command.

And Riku’s little secret? He _loves_ it when Sora is commanding. 

So while the spark that crackles to life in Sora’s gaze is hardly unexpected, the way it makes Riku feel a little lightheaded is still pretty novel. It took a long time for him to admit to himself that giving up the reins every once in a while excites him, that he likes to have Sora decide what they’re going to do and how they’re going to do it. Not just in the bedroom, but in everyday life. Sometimes, no matter how much Riku likes to plan and control, it feels so good to let Sora do it instead. 

“Why, Rikuuuuuuu,” Sora sing-songs, slipping in close enough to glide warm palms teasingly up Riku’s chest, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. “Do you want me to tell you what to do?”

 _Yes_. God, yes. 

Of course, Riku is far too momentarily speechless to answer verbally, so instead he nods as vigorously as humanly possible. It must look funny, because Sora giggles, his cheeks turning a very fetching shade of pink. It makes Riku want to take off all Sora’s clothes piece by piece to see how far down the flush can go. Maybe later…

There’s a tangible excitement in the air as Sora leads him to the center of the room where he’d started, the atmosphere so different from how they’d begun the night. “Wait right here,” Sora titters, biting at his bottom lip, looking for all the world like Christmas has come early. Pillows tumble and scatter around him as he bounds back onto the bed, grabbing up his phone to flick the screen impatiently. “I’ll find you some proper music. What was that stuff you had on before, anyway?”

“Um,” Riku feels the heat rise up into his cheeks, isn’t sure he wants to answer that question. Cloud is going to kill him. “Would you believe me if I told you Cloud sent it?”

Pausing, Sora glances up through his eyelashes, gaze scrutinizing and shrewd. “You owe me a story, Riku.”

“Yes, sir.”

“But first!” Brandishing his phone into the air, Sora presses the play button with excited flourish and moves to regather his pillows and get comfortable. The music, when it comes is much different than what Riku had chosen, soft tinkling piano, something they’d actually used as a lullaby a few times when one or both of them had been plagued by insomnia. Riku would have never thought he’d be taking his clothes off to it, but life was funny that way. 

A little bit of the earlier anxiety threatens to creep up on him as he waits for instruction, but one look at Sora’s reassuring smile has him calming down again. Still, there's no denying that he’s feeling a little impatient, ready to get on with things, ready to have a good time. “Hold your horses,” Sora says as though reading Riku’s thoughts. “Let me ogle at you for a minute. I barely even got a second to really appreciate those pants before you started flapping around.”

Riku winces, rubs the back of his still-sweaty neck, though not without flexing his bicep just a bit as he does. Just for show. “Was it bad?”

“Oh, babe, it was _horrible_. I was trying so hard not to laugh.”

That makes Riku chuckle again, finally finding the humor in the whole situation. Thank the gods that Sora hadn't thought to film it for posterity, because Riku truly would have died of embarrassment. 

"Turn around," Sora says, the timbre of his voice going dark and smoky, his eyes heavy lidded. Bedroom eyes. Riku catches a glance of Sora's slowly spreading thighs as he does what he's told, mouth going dry at the way the other man's cock was already tenting his pants. The thought that Sora is getting turned on simply from telling Riku what to do makes a shiver run down his spine. "Pull your hair away from your neck."

Not exactly sure what Sora wants, but not wanting to disappoint, Riku takes both arms and lifts his hair high in his hands. It exposes the nape of his neck to the cool air, makes him break out in shivers. He hears Sora shift on the bed, wonders what he's doing and decides to just close his eyes so that sounds are all the sensory input he gets other than his own touch. He won't need his eyes for this, will only need Sora's voice and his own body. 

"You're so beautiful," Sora purrs, his voice rough and deep. "Look at how those pants hug you. Did you pick them because of that?"

Breathe sticking in his throat, Riku finds himself at a loss for words. Dozens of people have called him beautiful, but Sora's opinion means more. Is quite literally everything. Besides, how can he possibly answer that when everything he does is, in some way, for Sora? That it would always be that way. There was a time when Riku thought that maybe he was a little obsessive about it, but if he was...oh well. He could do worse than being obsessed over his love for the most perfect boy in the universe. 

" _Answer_ me, Riku"

"Yes!" The snap in Sora's voice flips a white hot switch in him, sets his stomach flip-flopping all over the place. "Y-you always tell me I have a..."

"Perfect ass." Oh god, Riku loves it when Sora uses harsher language. It reminds him that he's the only one who ever gets to hear it. Sora never cusses in front of anyone else and it makes Riku feel special every time. "You do. People stare at it all the time. Makes me insanely jealous...did you know?"

Riku did not. On either account. When he was younger and had a much more inflated ego, he might have imagined that people stared at him...but now? No, he can't see it. Sora's jealousy comes as an even bigger surprise; he wasn't sure the younger man was capable of it, that he even felt such things. To hear him admit to it in such a context gives Riku a little thrill. 

He shakes his head. "I did not." He finds himself incapable of longer answers, of anything more than doing what Sora wants as efficiently as possible. 

There's a rustling of fabric behind him, like Sora is hunkering down further into the mattress. "Nothing will come of it, of course," Sora whispers, like they're telling each other secrets. In a way, Riku guesses they are. Sora's jealously. Riku's submission. These are things just for them. "You're mine and I know it."

"I _am_."

"You _are_." The song ends, Sora plays another, something that vaguely reminds him of their Heartsong. "Now take off your shirt. Slow. I want to watch your shoulders move."

Riku swallows, trying to figure out the best way to remove the article of clothing in question that will be the most pleasing for Sora. He settles on crossing his arms over his stomach and pulling, not impeding on the view of his back muscles. The fabric of the shirt is soft and smooth, it tickles a little as he drags it up his skin. There's a sharp intake of breath from behind when he reaches the bottom of his shoulder blades, the sound of Sora moving becoming a little louder. 

Is he...?

Riku stops, flexes his shoulders just a little, grins at the muffled groan it earns. "Like it?" he asks, feeling a little bolder knowing Sora is enjoying himself. It makes all those early morning workouts worth it. 

"God," Sora's voice is so breathy; it's nice to know he's as affected as Riku is. "You know I do. This is what I wanted, babe. I never get to appreciate your body like this. Take that off and turn back around, I wanna see your face."

Frankly, Riku isn't sure he's ready for Sora to see his face. He can feel the blush burning his cheeks, knows all his emotions are exposed in his eyes, can feel his dick hanging hard between his legs. The velvet is doing nothing to hide it, might even be accentuating it. Still, he wants to do what Sora tells him, it makes him feel good to make Sora happy. And if Sora wants to see every naked emotion on Riku's face, then so be it. 

But when he turns around, he realizes he's not the only one who's exposed.

Sora is utterly _debauched_. 

Shirt discarded to the floor, Sora has his thighs spread lewdly and widely, one hand pressed firmly between them as he palms himself rhythmically through his pants. He's not going too fast, like he's trying to make it last, not let it be over too soon. Riku can see his belly rising and falling rapidly, a drop of sweat running down his throat where he's tilted back his head, the hand not pleasuring himself pushing damp bangs back from his glazed eyes. 

_I did this_ , Riku thinks proudly. Just the simple act of allowing Sora to be in control, letting him see Riku's body this way, made him so hot that he looks like he's about to come from barely anything at all. It leaves Riku speechless, frozen in the face of Sora looking so very, very stunning.

"You're so hard for me," Sora gasps, giving himself a squeeze, swallowing with such force that Riku can see his adam's apple jump. "Oh, honey, you didn't even wear any underwear, did you?"

"No, sir."

"Fuuuuuccckk," Sora moans loudly, head falling further back as he momentarily seems to run out of patience and frantically shoves his hand down his pants. Riku watches the outline of him wrapping his fist around his dick, can hear the slick sound of his precome as he begins to stroke. "Lemme see just your hipbones, I wanna see that pretty silver trail. Not too fast. Not too fast. Make it good for me?"

Make it good. Be good for Sora.

That word must flick some switch in Riku's brain, because he instantly starts leaking in his pants, looking down to see it seep through in an ever-expanding circle. He hooks his thumbs in the waistband and slides it down that few requested inches, enough to see the line of dark silver hair that points to his sex, to see the V of his hipbones, just above where his dick is absolutely throbbing. He knows he's doing something right when it sets Sora moaning again, and Riku glances back up just in time to see him struggling to get out of the last of his clothes, making high-pitches little noises with each jerking movement. 

When he's finally, gloriously naked, fist back around his dick, Riku finds himself unable to breathe; it damn near hurts the way each inhalation tears its way up from the bottom of his sternum. Sora is magnificent like this, overcome with emotion and desire, flush all the way down to the rosy nipples standing up in the chill of the room. He glows in the candlelight, his skin glossy and shining with sweat, peachy and dewy. Every limb is twitching, primed, squirming against the mattress as though he's trying to get all the sensations he can against his skin. Riku wants to burn this image onto the backs of his eyelids so he can see it every time he closes his eyes, every time he blinks. 

"See?" Sora breathes out, clearly unable to pull himself together anymore, barreling towards the finish line like a rocket. A bead of precome drips down the side of his cock, makes Riku want to rush over and lick it up; he doesn't want it to go to waste. "See what you do? See how weak I am for you? Stop _worrying_."

Stop worrying...

Seeing this, this erotic scene, the undeniable proof of Sora's longing, is staggering. Makes him groan. Tears bead up in the corners of Riku's eyes, distorting his view of this astounding man in front of him before he blinks them away. Stop worrying. He makes it sound so easy, and maybe just this once...it is. 

Stop worrying...

His hand is on himself before he can stop it, knowing Sora hasn't commanded it, but unable to resist. Riku desperately needs a little outlet from the way his cock is aching before he explodes without ever being touched. Sora would probably like that, he thinks. It would probably push him over the edge. 

"It's okay." Nodding brokenly, Sora gestures to Riku with his free hand; Riku sees the way it's trembling, how close Sora is. "It's okay, Riku. Take them off. Touch yourself."

Riku wastes no time in doing what he's told, breathing a quivering sigh of relief when he wraps his hand around his dick, gives himself a few firm strokes. This isn't going to take long, isn't going to be more than a minutes work. Truthfully, with the way the electricity is shooting up and down his spine, he's not entirely sure he's going to be able to stand up through this at all, isn't certain he's not going to collapse to the floor. His knees are so shaky underneath him, everything is so overwhelming and good and emotional. 

"That's it." Sora speeds up, every other breath a crackling moan, his cock visibly spasming in his fist. His eyes are stormdark and wide, watching Riku's hand pumping himself with the kind of rapt attention he usually saves for the battlefield. It makes Riku unbelievably hot, both mentally and physically; his head rolls back, eyes closing to slits as he stares unseeingly at the ceiling. 

He feels feverish. He feels like he's burning. Sora has set the blaze and he's on _fire_.

"With me, Riku. With me." There's only Sora's voice again, desperate and high, the filthy wet sounds of him jerking himself fast and hard filling Riku's ears. This is all there is. Just Sora's bliss and his own hand stroking himself with razor-sharp purpose, so very different from all the times he's touched himself in the past. "C'mon, baby, you're so pretty. Don't you wanna come for me? Let me see, Riku. Lemme see."

And of course, never one to deny Sora anything, Riku does.

The unbelievable shockwave of his orgasm takes him off guard entirely, shattering cries of Sora's name grinding from between his teeth, his jaw clenched so hard it nearly hurts. His ankle thumps on the ground where he's unconsciously widening his stance to try and keep from falling, every muscle tense and trembling. His come shoots across his fingers messily, he can smell it dark and musky as it splatters to the floor below and doesn't care. Everything in this moment is good and molten and delicious, his ears are ringing a little with it. 

Somewhere in all this he hears Sora begin to come as well, broken curses and deafening shouts delighting him, adding to his own pleasure, wave after wave of cresting electricity pulling him apart in every direction until he finds himself in a gasping puddle on the floor.

"Please, Riku! Please, please, please!" Sora is chanting, still in the throes of his climax. The sound of his desperation gives Riku the strength to rise from the floor, unsteadily climbing to the bed to wrap the smaller man in his arms as he shakes apart. Sora is just finishing when he pulls him flush to his chest, feels Sora's sticky hands reach around his waist, holding him tight. 

They stay that way, not speaking, for a long while. Long enough to give Riku a few minutes to bring his thoughts back into some kind of line, to process what had just happened into some kind of workable concept. "So good," he murmurs at last into Sora's sweaty hair, breathing him in, running his hands all over Sora's body in soothing motions. "You were so good, Sora. Thank you."

"I...I think...that's my line." Sora is still out of breath, but apparently has enough strength in him to look up at Riku and absolutely _beam_. "Did you like it, Riku?" 

Not deeming the question legitimate enough to warrant with a verbal response, Riku raises an eyebrow. It makes Sora laugh and nod. "Okay, okay, dumb question. Not like I couldn't tell. You were so...soo....wow..." 

Eloquent, as usual. 

They make their way up to the head of the bed without dislodging from each other's embrace, eventually finding themselves on their sides facing one another. Riku brings Sora's fingers up to his mouth one by one, sucks each digit into his mouth to get a taste of Sora's come, watching the way his blue eyes dilate further and further with each lick and suck. 

"That was _fun_ ," Sora hums, running his toes up Riku's calf muscle, pressing himself in a bit tighter. Riku can feel the way he's already starting to harden a little against his thigh. Bless this man and his short refractory period. "We should definitely do that again. I want pictures next time."

"Pictures?!" Riku sputters, imagining himself sprawled out naked on the bed while Sora snaps photo after photo of him. He can't say he's entirely against the idea. The fact that he's not 100% against the idea is...surprising. "I better not catch myself on Kingstagram, Sora!" 

"Naaaah," Sora reels him in, waggling his eyebrows in a way that's far too ridiculous to be sexy. "Those are for my _private_ collection."

And as they kiss, sweet presses of lips quickly turning spicy, Riku can't help but be happy that things didn't go entirely according to plan tonight. Afterall, he is a practical man, and if letting Sora take the wheel felt that amazing, he might never want to be in charge again. What would fourteen year old Riku think of that?

Well, they had always secretly agreed that Sora looked better in the captain hat anyway. In fact, maybe Riku can ask him to wear it one night...

"Hey, Sora..."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. I really hope you loved it. 
> 
> If you did, feel free to leave me a kudos or a comment. I love talking to people about SoRiku. It's been my favorite pairing for nearly 20 years. :)
> 
> See you around!


End file.
